


Comeuppance

by Actual_Writing_Trashcan



Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [90]
Category: Deadpool (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Doggy Style, F/M, Handcuffs, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Multiple Orgasms, Oh god, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Spreader Bars, as far as real life goes, but that's not the point of this fic lol, change my name, i'm gonna have to go into hiding, move to a new state, start a new life, this one probably slides into unrealistic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27315292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Actual_Writing_Trashcan/pseuds/Actual_Writing_Trashcan
Summary: You run your mouth (as per usual) and Piotr decides to pay you back for it.This is just smut. No plot. Nothing crucial to the series. Just pure smut.(Set after "It's Truly Magical.")[All warnings in the tags. This  is part of a weekly October series that will ramp up in smutiness as each week passes.]
Relationships: Piotr Rasputin/Reader
Series: Colossus Hyperfixation Collection [90]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1079544
Comments: 2
Kudos: 56





	Comeuppance

There aren’t too many situations in your life that make you think “I might be in trouble.”

This, however, is definitely one of them.

In the haze of your arousal, you can’t quite remember how you wound up like this --cuffed to the headboard of the bed, spreader bar keeping your thighs apart, propped up on your knees and a pile of carefully arranged pillows, and so worked up you might cry.

You’re not exactly sure how long you’ve been like this, either. The only thing you can focus on is that your husband seems deadset on torturing you, and that he’s definitely put a great deal of thought into this moment before it actually happened.

Granted, that’s pretty “on par” for Piotr. He’s the thinker of your relationship.

You’re cuffed to the headboard so you can’t pleasure yourself or reach out and touch him. The spreader bar has the double duty of keeping you still and keeping you from drawing your legs together in an effort to get yourself off. Keeping you positioned on your knees and stomach --albeit on a pile of pillows--keeps you from seeing what he’s doing --or seeing him in general.

If someone had asked you  _ before _ you got married if your boyfriend-turned-fiance-now-husband was secretly kinkier than you and also a Dom, you would’ve laughed in their face because Piotr? As in Piotr Rasputin? As in The World’s Biggest Marshmallow? Yeah,  _ right _ .

However, being in a house of your own where no one can walk in on you, interrupt, or make fun of how you two go about having sex has finally brought out Piotr’s deepest, darkest urges --and, as such, you stand corrected.

(Which isn’t to say you two don’t have regular sex and make love ninety-nine percent of the time. Just that every now and then you go on a kinkier ride than you were expecting --case in point, uh, right now.)

And it’s also fair to say that you deserve your current situation, given your general propensity for being a brat and pushing your husband’s buttons--

You grit your teeth and whimper when his fingers barely brush over your soaked folds for the umpteenth time since all this started.

\--Okay, you don’t quite deserve that.

“Piotr, come on!  _ Please _ !” You tug at your cuffs for what is also the umpteenth time since he started torturing you, not that it works this time or any of the times before that.

“Please what?” Piotr asks from where he’s seated behind you. He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, making you shiver from head to toe. “I know you can be more specific than that,  _ myshka _ .”

The worst part of it is, you can’t even be mad at him right now (not completely, anyway). He’s put so much thought into making sure you’re comfortable and cared for that it doesn’t even feel like a punishment.

Case in point, your cuffs? Leather and padded so you don’t risk hurting your wrists.

The spreader bar? Also padded at the points where it touches your thighs, and he spent at least five tries making sure that the positioning of the bar itself didn’t strain your hips.

The pile of pillows that you’re resting on? Not haphazardly thrown together --like it would’ve been if you had been making it for yourself. No, he’d put the damn thing together while you were resting on it so you could decide what felt good and what didn’t --and, when one of the pillows had slipped and left you in an awkward position, he’d stopped mid-“torturing” you to reposition it until you were satisfied with how everything felt.

He’d also run everything past you before he’d actually done any of it --and, granted, the idea of being edged never sits well with you because you’re impatient, but you’d been willing to play along because it sounded like fun--and checked your “color” regularly as he got everything set up.

He’s literally the walking, talking,  _ breathing _ , living definition of the perfect Dom.

Now, if you could just get him to  _ make you cum _ …

“Piotr, come on! I’ve been so  _ good _ \--”

He actually laughs. “ _ No _ , you have  _ not _ .”

You giggle along with him. “Okay, fair enough, but--” Your voice trails off in a high-pitched groan as he just  _ barely _ kisses your folds. “Oh  _ for fuck’s sake _ , stop it!”

“Hmm?” He pulls away, but you can tell by the sound of his voice he isn’t alarmed or concerned that you’re uncomfortable or something worse. “You do not want me to touch you?”

If you could, you’d be tearing your own hair out right now. “No, no!”

“So, you do want me to touch you after all? You are being very confusing,  _ myshka _ .”

You growl, frustrated, and yank hard enough at your cuffs to make the headboard shake. “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”

He chuckles and reaches out to steady the headboard. “Gentle. Do not hurt yourself.”

“Oh, uncuff me and I will show you just how fucking gentle I can be.”

“Mm, I think not.” He drops a kiss against your shoulder. “How is your color?”

You let out a ragged sigh and drop your head against a pillow. “Green.”

“ _ Khorosho _ .” He withdraws from you completely once more. “Use your words,  _ myshka _ . I know you can.”

You whimper against the pillow, then lift your head and concede defeat. “Piotr --please, I just want to cum!”

“Ah, I see. And do you want me to make you cum, or do you want to make yourself cum?”

Fuck him.

“Piotr, for fuck’s--” You gasp when he gently bites at the inside of your thigh, raking his teeth over the sensitive skin there before following it with his tongue. “ _ You _ ! I want you to make me cum!” you admit in a rush. “I want you to make me cum, Piotr, please, please,  _ please _ \--”

He shushes you gently, smoothing a hand over your back until you stop trembling. “Easy. Deep breaths. I will take care of you,  _ dorogoy _ .”

You let out a ragged sigh, body relaxing in the wake of knowing that you won’t have to suffer much longer, that he’s finally going to get you off--

“How do you want me to make you cum?”

Fuck. Him.

“Now, now,” he chides you when you make a series of whining noises that indicate your general displeasure with him and the fact that you aren’t in a position to retaliate right now. “You know I need rules for everything I do,  _ myshka _ . Otherwise, I just cannot function.”

And that sparks some sort of memory, something about you teasing him about how he needed rules for something as mundane as tying his shoes, but you’re too worked up at the moment to really suss any of it out.

“Piotr--” He picks that moment to swipe a single finger between your slick folds, just for a moment, making you cut yourself off with a squeal.

“Quickly,  _ myshka _ ,” he warns you, and you can fucking hear the smile he’s wearing right now, damn him. “Or else I might forget what you wanted me to do in first place.”

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him--

“I don’t fucking care!” you exclaim, borderline sobbing. “I don’t fucking care, Piotr, I just want you to make me cum!”

He smooths a hand up the line of your spine. “So, does that mean I get to pick how you cum?”

“Yes!” you agree desperately. “You fucking pick, just please--”

“ _ Khorosho _ ,” he says, rubbing your back once more so you settle down --and, more importantly, breathe at a normal rate. “And how many times do you want to come?”

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him, fuck him,  _ fuck him _ \--

“I don’t care --you pick! You fucking pick! Just please,” you beg as you squirm against your restraints. “Please, please,  _ please make me cum already _ .”

“So, you want me to pick how you cum and how much you cum?”

Fuck him, fuck him,  _ fuckhimfuckhimfuckhimfuckhimfuckhim _ \--

“You decide how I cum and how much I cum,” you confirm breathlessly as you try to arch into his touch, only to whine when he pulls his hand away from your back. “Piotr _ , please _ \--”

And that’s when he decides to spread you apart with his thumbs and start sliding his tongue along the lines of your cunt.

The noises you make are  _ obscene _ . They’re mostly varied groans of relief and ecstacy --though he does eke a disbelieving squeal out of you when he stops before you can cum, which in turn gets the single darkest,  _ sexiest _ chuckle you’ve ever heard come out of your husband’s mouth in your entire life--

And then he swirls his tongue against your clit, and it’s all over.

You shriek as you come, relieved beyond measure as you finally fall over the precipice of pleasure and down the other side. You grip at your cuffs as he skillfully works you through the aftershocks, then let out a sigh that turns into a full body shudder when he finally stops.

For the first time, you realize the trap he’s backed you into; you want more, you want him to  _ fuck you _ , but no, you got impatient and decided to tell him that he got to call all the shots, and now he’s made you cum and thus held up his end of the deal and he going to torture you tonight by not fucking you or making you climax again.

Before you can start figuring out how to smack yourself upside the head while your hands are still cuffed, though, Piotr leans back in and wraps his lips around your clit.

Your entire body jerks as you gasp. He works you up fast, alternating between sucking and lapping at your clit, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut in the face of the  _ sheer sensation of it all _ .  _ It’s a trick _ , you tell yourself as you try to brace yourself against the onslaught of pleasure.  _ He’s gonna get you to the edge, and then he’s gonna stop-- _

And then your second orgasm of the night hits, and you’re almost too shocked to enjoy it properly.

Keyword being: almost.

Piotr’s hands rug on your back as you shudder and squirm your way through the aftershocks, gently soothing you as you come down from your climax. “How is your color,  _ myshka _ ?”

“Green,” you answer once the words sink into your pleasure-addled brain. “Totally green.”

He kisses the small of your back. “ _ Khorosho _ .”

For a moment, you wonder what else he might have in store for you, considering he’s still asking about your color and not simply uncuffing you --and then he aligns his cock with your center and thrusts  _ all the way in _ , and all coherent thought you might’ve been capable of outright stops.

You moan breathlessly as he starts fucking you in steady, even strokes --and you’re beyond confused now, even as pleasure starts building in your core again, because you can’t figure out  _ why _ he’s fucking now, after you’ve been such a brat, after you gave him the perfect set up to leave you high and dry and not fuck you at all, or at least make you wait and beg for a bit.

You drop your face into the pillow to muffle a whine as he starts thrusting faster --then gasp when he grabs your hair and tugs your head up because  _ oh god oh god oh god _ .

“I want to hear you,” he growls, and his tone leaves no room for argument,  _ holy shit _ .

You do you best to brace yourself up on your elbows as you moan. It’s hard to stay still while he fucks you; you’re used to moving against him, gripping his shoulders or running your fingers through his hair, wrapping your legs around your waist.

Right now, though, all you can do is  _ take _ . Whatever he decides to give you, for as long as he decides to do it.

It’s heaven and hell, all rolled into one.

You whine when he stops, opting to grind his hips against yours instead of thrusting, and in this position he’s rubbing straight against your g-spot and  _ oh god _ . He’s already  _ so big _ , but like this he feels  _ huge _ , and you feel like you’re going to  _ burst _ . “Piotr -- _ Piotr _ \--”

He leans over your, mouthing at your neck while one of his hands slides down so he can rub at your clit. “Easy. Let it happen.”

You do, practically mewling as your third orgasm of the night washes over you --and it’s got to be your birthday or something, maybe Christmas too, because there’s no way in hell you’ve earned such special treatment, not when you’ve given him the perfect set-up to get back at you for teasing him.

Whatever. Orgasms are orgasms. No sense in questioning it.

That, and Piotr only gives you a precious few seconds to calm down before he ramps up to fucking you again.

You’re writhing against the pillows --well, as much as you can while you’re cuffed and have a spreader bar on your thighs--still sensitive from your previous climax. He’s still teasing your clit with his fingers, too, and you can feel sweat beading on your back as your body tries to take everything he’s throwing at you. “ _ Piotr _ ! Oh --fuck! I--”

The next thing to leave your mouth is a stream of incoherent gibberish as he works another orgasm out of you. You’re practically boneless as this point, whimpering as your pussy spasms and clenches around his cock.

He’s all sweetness, kissing the spot between your shoulder blades and brushing your hair away from your face. “Easy, easy. Deep breaths,  _ moya lyubov’ _ .”

It takes some effort, but you manage to calm yourself. Your thighs are shaking with the effort of holding you up, even with the pillows helping, and you know you’re basically done for tonight --but that’s fine. You’ve gotten your pleasure, you know that Piotr won’t be too far behind, being tied down like this was actually pretty fun--

And then Piotr leans forward --which presses his cock that much deeper in you, making you gasp in turn--and kisses your ear before uttering the eight words that will ultimately be your undoing. “One more, and then you can be done.”

You world tilts on its axis as you try to put together what he means. “Wait, Piotr, what--” You grunt as he starts thrusting again, and  _ fuck, _ you’re too sensitive for this now, every mere  _ twitch _ of his cock against your walls sends your head  _ reeling _ , and for him to be fucking you like this is more than you can handle. “Piotr, I--”

“Just one more time,” he murmurs against your ear as you pant and writhe. “I know you can do it. One more orgasm, and then you’re done.”

You groan as a wave of pleasure so intense it almost hurts rolls through you. “Guh --Piotr, wait--”

He slows considerably, shifting his weight to one side so he can see your face better. “How is your color,  _ myshka _ ? Do you need me to stop?”

“No, I’m green,” you manage, even though your head is swimming at this point. “I just --why?”

Despite your ineloquence, he picks up your meaning. “Because,” he says as he leans over you until you can feel his breath against your ear. “What did you say earlier?”

You groan as his cock rubs against your oversensitive cunt. “I don’t fucking know!”

“About who was in charge. About how much you got to cum tonight,” he clarifies gently, lovingly. “What did you say?”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he means, what he wants to do to you, and you moan.

“Say it for me,  _ myshka _ ,” he encourages as he rubs one of his massive hands over your ribcage. “I want you to say it for me.”

“I--” you moan again when he gently gropes at your breast “--I said ‘you decide how I cum and how much I cum.’”

“ _ Da _ . Very good.” He kisses your shoulder sweetly, even as he continues rolling his hips against yours. “How is your color now?”

You whimper as you grip the strap that ties your cuffs together --because even though you’re so worked up and worn out, there’s only one answer you have in mind right now. “Green. It’s green.”

“ _ Khorosho _ .” He shifts back again and puts his hands on your hips, and in doing so switches from the gentle lover to the authoritative dom once more. “So.” He picks up his pace again, which nearly makes you cry. “Who decides how much you cum tonight?”

You moan, unbridled, even as your legs threaten to give out. “You.”

“And who gave me that authority?”

You keen. Even though you’re already so worn out, you can still feel another climax building. “I did.”

“Right.” He slides his hand down so he can stimulate your clit again. “And what are you going to do?”

You let out a sob as your final climax of the night ramps up quickly, almost too fast for you to handle. “I’m gonna cum!”

He leans over again, pace never faltering and fingers never leaving your clit, even as he nips at your ear. “And why are you going to do that?”

“Because you told me to!” you whimper.

“That’s right. And when you are going to do it?”

Your eyes squeeze shut. “When you tell me to!”

“That’s right,” he growls as he thrusts into you, hard and fast. “And you’re going to do it…  _ now _ .”

And you do. You climax so hard and so fast you scream, body shaking and slick with sweat as you eke out one more release.

Piotr groans --and then he’s gone almost faster than you, thrusting into you sharply and grinding against you as you both ride out your respective orgasms.

You’re a shaking mess. Your voice is hoarse from screaming so hard, your legs are completely useless, and there’s no way in hell you’re walking normally tomorrow.

Piotr pulls out and undoes your cuffs as soon as he recovers --which doesn’t take long, he always makes a point to take care of you as quickly as possible when he takes over for an evening.

The spreader bar goes next, and you finally go limp against the pile of pillows, whimpering slightly as your cunt throbs in time with your racing heartbeat.

“How are you?” Piotr asks as he brushes your hair out of your face and kisses your temple.

“Good,” you mumble. “Just… intense.” You sigh, then smile dopily as the afterglow starts kicking in. “But good.”

“ _ Khorosho _ . How does hot bath sound?”

A hot bath sounds like heaven right now. 

“Yeah. Bath. But you gotta sit with me.”

He rolls you over, kisses your forehead, then lifts you into his arms. “ _ Konechno _ . Whatever you want.”

You nuzzle your face against his shoulder as he carries you to the bathroom and sigh happily.

You really do have the most perfect husband.


End file.
